


Somehow We Arrive at the Beginning

by Foegerfeax



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foegerfeax/pseuds/Foegerfeax
Summary: Leorio doesn't just show up to the Hunter Exam. These things take careful planning, and they take sustained commitment, and they take effort.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	Somehow We Arrive at the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Set before the main plot, obviously.

The silence dragged on for a minute. The A/C turned on and its hum rifled the air, though the small neat office was already cool. Leorio sat very still in his little chair across from the professor. There were 45 minutes left of office hours. Fifteen had been his; the other students were waiting. They would be playing on their phones; maybe complaining about him.  
  
“So?” Leorio asked. “Do you think you could do it, Professor?”  
  
Expressionless, the professor brushed some hair back from her shoulder with a diamond-ringed hand. “Leorio,” she said after a second, “I let you sit all the exams and participate in labs and I graded your work.”  
  
“I know. I really appreciate it, Professor.”  
  
“I could already be fired if people find out I let you audit so many courses. The costs for me-”  
  
“No one will find out,” Leorio said quickly, leaning forward a little. “And for the letters you don’t have to literally say that I was enrolled at your school. You could just - gloss over the details.”  
  
“You faked a transcript.”  
  
A beat of silence. Under the desk his hands gripped his thighs. “The grades are real,” he said. His lips were tight. “I earned those grades.”  
  
“I know,” she said.  
  
“So will you please write my recommendation?”  
  
A pause. “People can get into med school without recommendation letters,” she said. Her hands were lightly gripping the edge of her desk, sort of picking at it. The gem on her ring finger was very sparkly. “It all depends how you do on the qualifying exams.”  
  
“Do you know anyone who has gotten in without letters?”  
  
Her fingers flexed on the wood and then released. She folded her hands neatly before her. “Focus on studying for the exams, Leorio,” she said.  
  
“Will you write me a letter if I do well on the QEs?”  
  
She rubbed her hand across her mouth. The potted plant behind her was very green.  
  
“Have you eaten today?” she asked.  
  
“No,” Leorio said.  
  
She reached under her desk and after a second pushed a folded paper bag over to him. “You can have my lunch,” she said. “I’ll get something from the cafeteria.”  
  
“Thanks.” He took it.  
  
They stood up.  
  
“Good luck, Leorio,” she said.  
  
“Thanks, Professor.”  
  
He slipped out of the office door and the next student entered at the same time. Her pink glitter keychain almost caught on Leorio’s suit pocket.  
  
He went down to the atrium and sat down on the marble lip of the fountain across from two boys on a bench. One of them laughed and pointed at the other’s laptop screen. The giant arched windows in the ceiling let in the light but not the heat. Or rather, the heat was powerless against the air conditioning.  
  
Leorio looked down at the brown paper bag and with difficulty uncoiled his fingers from the top. It was very crumpled where his grip had been. Inside there was an orange, a plastic clam container with a vegetable sandwich, and a little plastic bottle of some kind of prepackaged sweet espresso drink. Leorio twisted the lid until it cracked open and took a sip. He drank the whole thing.  
  
He ate the food and stuck the packaging back in the bag.  
  
He walked as far south as he could get in the life sciences building, and then the doors whispered open to release him into the dry heat of day.  
  
Leorio liked walking on campus. It was clean. There were lots of plants in tidy gardens and gleaming monuments to scientists and donors. Students and administrators passed all around, abuzz with the excitement of knowledge. The high hypnotic drone of the cicadas was softened by the rippling sound of the fountains. He pictured himself in stone, standing over this one, with a bronze plaque at his feet.  
  
Passing south and downhill, the university buildings petered out into apartment buildings and businesses, and shops and cafés, all brightly colored and vibrant with life. A breeze picked up, coming from the west, and Leorio could smell the sea.  
  
“Nice shades,” a young man called from under an awning over one of the outdoor café tables, and his companions erupted into laughter.  
  
“Shut up, idiot,” Leorio snapped, and gave them the finger, and they laughed again and he kept walking, the plastic within the paper bag creaking and bending with protest under his hand.  
  
From up here the sound of bells carried on the breeze sounded mournful.  
  
As he kept walking, the buildings shrunk and grew more modest. Eventually a gate, flanked by two guards, came into view. The checkpoint was evidently being manned today. Leorio strolled closer, feet firm on the cracked pavement.  
  
“I tell you,” a man was saying, “Let us through! My wife is a well-known photographer and we’re in a hurry. _Chorus_ wants striking photos of children in need by next week!”  
  
“You’re advised to have proper safety equipment to pass here today, sir,” the guard said expressionlessly. “ADP Index is high.”  
  
“I say, we haven’t the time to-”  
  
Snorting with disgust, Leorio peeled off to the left, taking the route he usually took. He squeezed down a narrow alley, jumped a broken fence with bicycle locks rusted onto it, and went up the back stairs to the flat rooftop of an old but tidy whitewashed house. From there he was able to drop down past the back wall and land on a road that was not paved, but composed of packed red dust. The air was hazy with it, and he smothered a slight cough into his hand. You didn’t notice it after awhile, but coming from the upper city, you did. From the air conditioning and shade and fountains.  
  
He made his way through the familiar narrow streets, hands shoved in his pockets. The area was mostly quiet. Now and then he could hear yelling or the sound of a fan coming from an open window as he passed.  
  
Out of the haze it became evident a beat too late that a small group of muscular men was resting by the side of the street ahead of him, some leaning against the wall, some crouched on the ground. Leorio recognized them. But there were no alleys to turn onto, no way to go around. Probably that was why they had installed themselves here. Leorio curled his hands into fists inside his pockets and kept walking.  
  
“Back from your bootlicking?” one of them asked. Leorio considered the likely outcomes of ignoring them or responding like he wanted to. He gritted his teeth inwardly and stopped.  
  
The largest - dressed in a low-cut tank top, sweat spots visible on the fabric under the arms even though the holes reached almost to his waist - pushed himself off the wall and approached.  
  
“I said, back from your bootlicking, Switch?”  
  
“Yup,” Leorio said.  
  
“Got anything for us, then?”  
  
“I don’t owe any tribute,” he said jerkily. “We paid-”  
  
The man waved a hand vigorously, making his gleaming pec jiggle. “I meant just as pals, Switch. You didn’t bring anything for your buddy Rapier?”  
  
“Um...” Leorio was glad he hadn’t brought his backpack or briefcase, or he might have been forced to hand over something important. “Here.” He held out the paper bag.  
  
Curious, Rapier took it and peered inside. He grimaced. “This is probably worth like ten jenny, Switch. This is how little you value our friendship?”  
  
Rapier’s sweaty shirt had a logo, but it was illegible, cracked off in flakes like the paint on the steeple around the other side of the promontory. Leorio shrugged. “All I got today. It made me think of you.”  
  
The others snorted.  
  
“Uh huh,” Rapier said drily. “Real funny.” He tossed the bag to Santoku, who caught it and contemplated it expressionlessly for a moment, then shoved it into a sack. “Sure you won’t come on as an errand boy and bring it to the recycling center for us? Then you could come up to the Warehouse. Machete’s real interested to meet you. Smart guy like you.”  
  
“You can send him my regards,” Leorio said politely. “Not today.”  
  
“Fine,” Rapier said, turning away. “Go ahead then-” As he finished the sentence he whirled back around to face Leorio and a fist clad in brass knuckles rocketed towards Leorio’s throat. Leorio leapt backward, switchblade already poised in his hand, bent low in a defensive stance.  
  
Abruptly Rapier stopped short and relaxed, letting out a peal of laughter. The others joined in as the dust kicked up by the sudden movement settled. Rapier flexed his fingers and the brass knuckles disappeared as though by magic.  
  
“Fucking beautiful,” Butterfly said from where he crouched in front of the wall. His pierced tongue glittered when he spoke. “Good form overall, Switch, though your footwork is a bit ragged. Maybe with the right teacher-”  
  
“He knows,” Santoku said boredly. “He’ll come around. We just have to wait for him to realize he has no other prospects, stop cosplaying up on the hill.”  
  
“Yeah,” Leorio said. He stowed his knife. He willed his heart to stop racing before he did something stupid. “You got it, guys. Just give me some time.”  
  
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Rapier said, returning to his position beside the others. “Have yourself a good night, Switch.”  
  
Leorio waved at them and left.  
  
Down here the city was orange and the cicadas’ whine was everywhere, a medium-pitched drone that felt like the dust itself had a sound. Leorio always felt like his feet were dragging here, even when it wasn’t so hot. A trickle of sweat ran down the line of his spine, under his shirt. A slight breeze stirred the dry air and he suppressed another cough.  
  
Somewhere he could hear the shouts of children playing in the street.  
  
A few blocks away from his apartment block, a kid appeared out of one of the alleys and casually fell into step beside him.  
  
“Hi, Kiddo,” Leorio said.  
  
“Hi, Leorio.”  
  
“How’s it going?”  
  
Kiddo shrugged maturely. Then, “Do you have any presents for me?”  
  
“Not today. Sorry.” He should have saved the orange.  
  
“Damn,” Kiddo said.  
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes. Leorio stopped in front of his apartment. Kiddo turned to face him, neck craning upward, hands in pockets. There was a smear of dirt on his cheek. “Mom got a six pack,” he announced. “She said you can have some beers if you’ll take a look at her throat again.”  
  
“I’m not a doctor.”  
  
“‘Better a hack than a quack’,” Kiddo recited, and stared up at Leorio expectantly.  
  
“Those basically mean the same thing, you dumb kid,” Leorio growled. “Fine. I’ll drop by some time tomorrow. Tell your mom to make sure the beer is cold.”  
  
Kiddo shook his head. “Fridge’s full.”  
  
“Fuck everything,” Leorio said mildly. “Fine. Seeya tomorrow, Kiddo.”  
  
“Seeya tomorrow, Leorio.”  
  
Leorio went in and climbed the stairs two at a time, moving in slow motion.  
  
The electricity was out at his house again, which was obnoxious but not fatal. With a sigh he started cranking the hand-generator. He definitely had enough time to give it a good charge before the sun went down.  
  
As he cranked, he thought about what his professor had said. About prepping for the QEs being the most important thing.  
  
Sure. But first he had to be able to afford them. The testing cost 30 000 jenny. Maybe he could make that much, but then what? Applications to med school cost money, too. And even _if_ he could pay that, even _if_ he was admitted - which was unlikely without any letters of recommendation and with a forged transcript - what then? Decline the offer after all that effort, because he couldn’t afford to accept it?  
  
No. Before worrying about the qualifying exams he would settle the financial question or die trying. There was another exam he had to take.  
  
There were a few months left. He had saved up some money, but who knew if that would even get him all the way to the location of the testing. Plus the exam was physically and mentally grueling. The mental part he could probably handle, and he already had decent combat skills, but with his recent focus on schoolwork to the detriment of all else he wasn’t in great physical condition. At least, nowhere near on par with the professional athletes he would doubtless be up against. He had to train, which meant that he couldn’t skip meals like he usually did when he needed to save money. Ideally he would be able to find some kind of gig where he could make a few jenny while improving his fitness. His job at the Geo Department didn’t fit the bill, and anyway he thought that Dr. Stralewski was beginning to suspect he wasn’t really a student. It had been bold, to apply for that position; bolder still, to work it for a few months. Something else was in order, now. Some low-lying job which would allow him to build strength.  
  
He thought about that.  
  
The brickworks was the obvious choice, but he probably wasn’t buff enough to land a position that would improve his conditioning without destroying his joints in the process. And then there was the air quality to contend with. The inevitable asthma in his fifties - if he lived that long - he could deal with. But he had heard of guys’ lungs being destroyed in weeks in the extrusion tunnel. That was too much of a risk. He had to make it to the exam. For now, he only needed enough money to do that and to facilitate getting in better shape. Maybe to restock his briefcase if he had extra.  
  
He made plans in his head until the whirring of the fan and the chirping drone of the cicadas finally lulled him to sweaty sleep.  
  
The next day he woke up late and checked out Kiddo’s mom’s throat and gave her a multivitamin that probably wouldn’t help her much and got drunk at noon. On his way home he got jumped by a goon with a knife and slashed the guy pretty badly before stomping him into a dumpster to have time to get away. Mr. Forar nodded politely as he passed and didn’t even mention the impressive bruise on Leorio’s forehead.  
  
Life went on as usual.  
  
Leorio wrote an application and faked his address and after a tense interview he got a job delivering newspapers up on the hill.  
  
This was a job one could do while jogging.  
  
It was very rough going at the beginning. After the first delivery, during which he forced himself to run almost the whole time, his legs were so sore - even muscles in them he didn’t know he had - that for the rest of the week he was sort of limping or shambling around, a horrible gait that genuinely made him worried each day as he threw newspapers onto the tidy lawns that he would get kicked out of the area for having clay sickness. Which would really ruin his plans. Kiddo laughed at him mercilessly when he found him, and Leorio snapped at the kid, who then made an effort to be around more often during the following few days, while being conspicuously surly.  
  
Leorio ate real food every day, with vegetables and protein. It was so expensive.  
  
On top of that, he spent half of what he earned every day at the middle-city laundromat, trying to get the sweat and grime out of his suit. Over weeks the fabric started to look visibly worn, and he reluctantly began putting away money to purchase a new suit, too, before he set out for the exam. One might as well face death or triumph in style.  
  
He ran and sweated and picked up his paycheck with a smile and laundered his suit, and otherwise he hung around and laid unconscious under the whirr of the fan drowning out the cicadas at night, and that’s mostly how the time passed.  
  
One day he was in the upper city delivering newspapers when Santoku and Butterfly, of all people, strolled out of a driveway right in front of him. Behind them followed some of the usual culprits.  
  
Leorio ground to a stop, skidding on the pavement. On the packed dust, he would have fallen for sure. He barely managed to avoid having the momentum of the heavy sack of papers pull him over.  
  
“Hi,” Santoku said. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”  
  
The guys, with their rough attire and their sharp, mean gazes, looked very out of place in front of the white retaining wall and coiffed lawn of the nearest house.  
  
“I am,” Leorio said. Tried to steady his breathing. “I’m delivering newspapers.”  
  
“I can see that.”  
  
Leorio scanned the group again. “Where’s Rapier?” he asked.  
  
Santoku just shook his head. “Construction camp,” he said bluntly. “He messed up.”  
  
“That’s rough,” Leorio said carefully. He wasn’t sure if Santoku would be glad or sorry about the fall from grace of his senior officer. It was a familiar story: attempt to avoid the brickworks by joining the gangs; screw up; get reported to the authorities for some real or invented infraction, and get thrown in the camp when they found your inevitably incomplete paperwork.  
  
“Yeah,” Santoku said, giving nothing away. Then, “We’re shorthanded. Some new recruits also got busted last week.”  
  
Leorio swallowed. The bag of newspapers was digging into his shoulder blade. “That’s rough,” he said again. He adjusted the bag. Where it pressed on his back, his skin was doubly sticky.  
  
“Yeah,” Santoku said again. “You wouldn’t believe the - this bastard made the moves on Machete’s girl. I’ve never seen him that mad. Bowie said he hadn’t seen him that mad since he had to hire contractors for that - that fiasco with Razor. I mean, you-know-who.”  
  
“Wack,” Leorio said vaguely. “That, uh, Rapier made the moves on her, or one of the rookies?”  
  
“What?” Santoku shot him a suspicious look. “Rapier. Duh. You losing brain cells, Switch?”  
  
“Maybe,” Leorio said. “A week from now you might find me stomping straw in the west quarter.”  
  
Santoku snorted. “They don’t use _straw_ anymore,” he said disparagingly.  
  
“Sorry. I don’t know a lot about it.”  
  
“Watch yourself, Switch,” Santoku said coldly. “It’s not like _I_ know shit about the brickworks.”  
  
“Of course not,” Leorio said quickly. “I know. I was... just joking.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
Santoku turned as though to leave and Leorio tensed, fingers twitching toward his knife.  
  
But Santoku paused. “Oh, yeah,” he said casually. “I just remembered-” He rifled around in a pocket on his cargo pants and held something out. “Here.”  
  
After a beat, Leorio reached out his hand and Santoku dropped a small roll of jenny and a cigarette into it.  
  
Leorio looked at the money. “What’s this for?” he asked.  
  
“Courtesy of Machete. Just to make sure you’re taking good care of yourself.” Santoku gave a smile that might have been forced.  
  
“Um. Thanks. Uh, tell the big guy thanks from me, Santoku.”  
  
“Will do, Switch. Will do.”  
  
“Uh, by the way, this smoke, it’s not-?”  
  
“Just a cigarette,” Santoku said, showing his teeth again in a smile. “I promise.”  
  
A cloud blocked out the sun momentarily and then promptly passed away again, leaving the street once more bathed in light.  
  
“Wanna join up today, Switch?” Butterfly called. “There’s more where that came from.”  
  
Leorio was spared from answering by Santoku’s waving hand. “The boss said deliver the gift, not harass the guy, Butterfly. Stop being so pushy or I’ll get Ben to kick your ass.”  
  
“Ben doesn’t answer to you,” Butterfly said. “But sure. I’ll chill. I can be patient.” He smiled broadly at Leorio.  
  
“Ok.” Santoku snapped his fingers. “Let’s go get that bitch with the housing block. You have the pliers and stuff?”  
  
They left.  
  
Leorio set off again and finished delivering the newspapers and crouched panting by a fountain and splashed some of the water on his face, earning a weird look from a passing mother and child. He drank his bottle of water and smoked the cigarette. It was just a cigarette.  
  
He sat on the lip of the fountain, cigarette dangling from his lips, and prodded at his calves. They didn’t feel noticeably bigger or more solid than when he had started, but surely he had been progressing slowly. He didn’t know if he had gained any muscle because he didn’t have access to a scale. He did feel that the newspaper route was less tiring than before. Tomorrow he should time himself. But he didn’t have a watch.  
  
He bought one of the 50% off pesto sandwiches from the last bakery before the real delineation between the upper and lower city, and ate it as he walked. A kid he didn’t recognize asked for the wrapper - it was paper and foil - and Leorio gave it to him. Not seconds after finishing the sandwich and licking the sauce off his fingers, Leorio ran into someone else. Or rather, someone else popped unexpectedly out of a very narrow side-alley, which was one of the most common ways Leorio encountered people, for some reason.  
  
“Leorio!” Alexandr said. “I haven’t seen you around much! I thought you must have been dead or gone off to medical school by now.”  
  
Leorio made a sound that was a combination of an appreciative laugh and the sound of a grimace. “Nope. I’m trying, though.”  
  
Alexandr let out a vibrant laugh that seemed to make his bronze curls bounce. “Trying to die, or get to medical school?”  
  
Somehow that wasn’t funny. “What do you think, you moron.”  
  
“Fine. Fine. We have popsicles up at the shop, you want in?”  
  
“Is that an offer of a gift, or a sales pitch?”  
  
Alexandr clapped him on the back, laughing again. Leorio slapped him away. “You’re annoying as hell,” he snarled. “I wouldn’t eat your dumb popsicles if you paid me.”  
  
“Suit yourself,” Alexandr snapped. “I guess you’ve spent too much time up in the clear air to care about supporting local businesses. We have to make a living doing something other than kissing ass, you know.”  
  
“Take that back.”  
  
“Or what? You’ll call the property enforcers?”  
  
“There’s only one of us likely to call _enforcers_ , and it sure isn’t me,” Leorio growled. “I heard you kissed Ben’s ass so good that he got the guys to run the Li’s out of their shop. That true?”  
  
“All’s fair in business, Leorio,” Alexandr sneered.  
  
“Ben’s got shit taste, then. Next you’ll tell me that Bowie’s terrifying face makes-”  
  
“At least I’m not a fucking _class traitor_ ,” Alexandr sang.  
  
“ _Take that back_ ,” Leorio snarled, hand going threateningly to his pocket.  
  
“Oh please. Who’s going to back you up, your shiny patrons? Face it, Leorio, they don’t give a shit about you and they never will.” Alexandr danced away, out of reach, as though expecting Leorio to knife him for real. “Bye, then. Enjoy your caviar and wine, I guess, fucker.” He disappeared around a corner. Leorio gritted his teeth.  
  
He returned to his apartment, but sat down on a crate outside to rest for awhile before going up. It would be less hot here in the shade than upstairs without the fan on. Probably worth inhaling a bit of dust. He closed his eyes. He coughed at a tickle in his throat. He thought about how the Li family would cope without a location to rent for their shop, about if their wares had been seized. He thought about how he would feel if someone stole his briefcase or his hard-earned money stash, and then he tried to empty his mind so he wouldn’t think about all that. He forced his nails to stop digging into his thighs.  
  
As the sun began to sink behind the horizon and the streets turned truly orange, workers returning for the brickworks, and probably some kind of other occupations, began to pass by. Leorio didn’t look up. He didn’t feel like seeing faces. The bells in the distance rang out, harmonizing with the cicadas, and darkness fell.   
  
It got cooler, and when Leorio got up to go inside it took five minutes for him to unwedge his door from the frame and get inside, and then he couldn’t close it properly behind him. He shoved it as closed as it would go, prayed that no raids would come tonight, and went to sleep.   
  
The next day (a no-newspaper day) he was wandering around the city in the late morning and got bitten by some kind of big disgusting bug he hadn’t ever seen before, a reddish beetle that landed right on his hand and stung him (or bit him, or whatever) and flew away again before he had a chance to brush it off. The sting only made a little red bump and it wasn’t very itchy. But it reminded Leorio of the locust year and the nightmares he had until he was six. He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders scrunched up, and kept walking. With a yowl a cat jumped out of a dumpster as he passed, knocking refuse onto his foot. A rotten banana peel, like in a cartoon. He swore at it (the peel) and shook it off his shoe.  
  
A well-dressed person with a face mask hurried by him in the opposite direction, giving him a wide berth.  
  
He went to check in on the Li’s empty store, but before he got very close he saw that its cracked and looted facade, opened to the sky where once a relatively clean window had shone, was occupied by what must have been gang members. Careful not to be spotted, Leorio got a bit closer and recognized Butterfly’s bleached head and maybe Exacto out front, cutting the tops off of warm melted freezies and drinking them one after another. From within the shop a shill, terrifying laugh emanated. It might even have been Bowie. Another man swaggered out of the shop and urinated directly on top of the sign, now horizontal in the dust, that had once proudly adorned the outside of the shop. _Li’s Place_ , it had said, in three languages. Hand-painted. They used to give Leorio expired buns for free. The buns had been so damn good. They had tasted nice even when they were going bad.  
  
He left in a hurry and the dust burned in his throat. He hadn’t gone more than a few blocks when suddenly someone was behind him.  
  
“Hey, Leorio.”  
  
Leorio spun around, face twisted in a snarl. Then he relaxed. “Kiddo,” he said.  
  
“Check out what I’ve got.” Kiddo held out a book, its cover wrapped in the plasticky covering that libraries added. Leorio reached for the book and Kiddo swiped it away. “Look but don’t touch,” he said with a scowl.   
  
Leorio snorted. “What do I want with your dumb book anyway? They have millions in the college libraries. Billions, probably.”  
  
“I only have this one,” Kiddo said combatively. “I found it underneath The Chiara.”  
  
“Good for you.” Leorio stuck his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Here,” Kiddo said, opening the book to a certain page and holding out to him. “Look but don’t touch,” he said again.  
  
Leorio looked. There was a finely illustrated drawing of agricultural workers in a field, with various things in the image labelled. “Wow,” Leoio said sarcastically. “Wheat. How fascinating.”  
  
“Not that,” Kiddo scoffed. “Look.” He pointed to the tool in one of the worker’s hands.  
  
“‘Scythe,’” Leorio read off the label. “So what?”  
  
“That’s gonna be my name,” Kiddo said. “I’m gonna be Scythe.”  
  
“Ah.” Leorio looked at the picture again. “Okay.”  
  
“Last week I ran into Santoku and Ben and they gave me a piece of gum.”  
  
“That’s just because you’re cute,” Leorio said. “It doesn’t mean they’re going to recruit you.”  
  
“Whatever,” Kiddo said with venom. “I’ll show you.” He snapped the book shut.  
  
“Hey, Kiddo?” Leorio said.  
  
“What.”  
  
“Don’t go using that nickname for now, yeah?”  
  
“Whatever.” Kiddo stomped away, book under his arm.  
  
With a sigh Leorio brushed some sweat off his forehead. Eventually it was almost time and he headed uphill, after checking that his to-do list was still in his pocket.  
  
On campus he had almost made it to the library when someone tapped him smartly on the shoulder. Leorio whirled around to face a boy: blond, starched collar, a silver interior college pin glinting on his lapel.  
  
“Are you the asshole who yelled at Peter in Chem 340?” he asked.  
  
Leorio was tall. He could look down his nose at the boy, through his little dark glasses. “Probably, yeah,” Leorio said. “Is Peter dumb as shit?”  
  
The boy sneered. “I thought it might be you. You look like a clown. Are you here on _scholarship_?” He said it like the word had a foul taste.  
  
“You wish you could earn a scholarship, moneybags,” Leorio said roughly. “With a GPA like yours it’s obvious that the school only let you in so they could afford to take a few students who _aren’t_ idiots.”  
  
He dodged the boy’s very shoddy punch, ducking behind him, and kicked him in the seat of his pants. The boy stumbled forward and fell over. Face flushed, Leorio ran away and after turning a few corners, stood panting in the shade of the Lorraine Building’s back wall and its shuddering ivy. (Shuddering because of the rifling air coming out of the A/C unit.) No point in celebrating his easy victory when getting _noticed_ could ruin everything.  
  
Skirting around the edge of campus, he made his way carefully back to the Hickley Humanities Library.  
  
He walked in and the wrong worker was at the desk. He hesitated and someone pushed past him angrily. Leorio approached the guy at the desk.  
  
“Uh, hi,” he said, resting his fingers lightly on the counter. “Isn’t this usually Miss Alteban’s shift?”  
  
The guy’s brow furrowed. His eyes flicked to Leorio’s suit and up again. “Can I see your student ID?” he asked.  
  
“Oh, uh, no need,” Leorio said quickly. “I was just - I, um, I’ll come back later.” He let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to ask her out, to be honest.”  
  
“Oh.” The guy’s suspicious look dissipated a little. “Haha. She’s cute, right?”  
  
“For sure.” Leorio laughed again. He noticed the logo on the guy’s shirt. “Oh, you’re into Nyke? Did you see the new-”  
  
“Ugh, yeah,” he said. “I really want the teal ones but I’m so broke. Maybe next month.” He laughed and brushed some hair off his forehead. His wristwatch shone.  
  
Leorio made sure his smile maintained its exterior affect, though he couldn’t prevent his teeth from clenching. “Yeah, I can relate. I like the sunset ones best.”  
  
“Ooh, yeah, those are nice too. I have AJs in - wait, I’ll show you-” He disappeared below the counter and then emerged with a white sports shoe, accented in gold and red, in his hand.  
  
“Ooh,” Leorio said. “Gorgeous.”  
  
“Yeah,” the guy said, bent over to put his shoe back on. “So, uh, you want to ask Terri out? They re-jigged the shifts this week, she’ll take over from me at five for the closing period.”  
  
Leorio almost swore. “Okay, awesome! Thanks so much, man.”  
  
“No problem. Wait, what’s your name?”  
  
“Leorio,” Leorio said.  
  
“I’m Michael. Lit major.”  
  
“Nice to meet you. I study bio and chem.” Leorio took the proffered hand. Michael’s handshake was firm but not aggressive.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Leorio. Good luck later.”  
  
“Sure thing. Thanks again.”  
  
“Take care.”  
  
Leorio turned again to leave.  
  
“Wait-” Michael said. “Do you have PeopleBook?”  
  
Leorio swallowed. “Uh, no, sorry. It was too distracting during finals last year so I just deleted.”  
  
“Ah, okay. Too bad. See you around.”  
  
“Yeah. See you around.”  
  
He waited on the bench outside for several hours, almost wishing that the nasty boy with the glinting college pin would come back. He wandered off and went into a health food store and left again when he saw the prices.   
  
After five o’clock came, Leorio re-entered the library. It was quieter now. The woman he had originally expected was now at the desk.  
  
“Hi,” he said.  
  
“Hi.” There was a pause. “Can I help you with anything specific today?”  
  
“Could, ah, could you please log me into one of the computers?” he said, voice low. “I have some stuff I really need-”  
  
“Fine,” she said. “How long do you think you’ll be here?”  
  
“I don’t know. I want to do a bunch now so I don’t have to come back and bug you again.”  
  
She rose from her seat and led him through the scanner arch into the library proper. At the very first computer she leaned over and began typing the login information, lacquered fingernails tapping on the keyboard. “There you go,” she said. “Don’t change any settings, please.”  
  
“Yeah, of course not. Oh-” He hesitated midway into settling down on the chair. “By the way, the other guy working the front desk started to get suspicious of me and the only excuse I could come up with that I didn’t want to go into the library without you there was that I wanted to ask you out. So you can just tell him you rejected me. Sorry.”  
  
“Okay,” she said, face unreadable.  
  
“Thanks a bunch, I really appreciate this, Miss.”  
  
“Yeah,” she said. “Try to be quick and don’t say goodbye when you leave. And don’t forget to log out and don’t use my printing allowance or operate the virtual assistant.”  
  
“Right, of course. Thank you so much, it’s so kind of you to help me out.”  
  
“Good luck,” she said. She departed and he let the easy, forced smile slip away. He pulled out a pen and paper and booted up the internet.  
  
He did what he needed to do. A few hours later he stuffed his notes into his pocket and left. He didn’t say goodbye.  
  
There were boats going to the Hunter Exam a few different times. He ran over the schedule in his head again, to be sure he had it memorized in case he lost his notes or something went wrong.  
  
His stomach growled, and it would have been more comforting to know that he could just not eat, and save the jenny. But he bought some spicy fries from a street vendor and ate them as he walked.  
  
After dropping back into the red dusk of the lower streets, he passed a little kid huddled in a corner. Over the whirr of the cicadas, a nearly impotent breeze stirred a stray paper near the kid’s feet. Roused, the kid quickly noticed Leorio and jumped up and followed him, eyes wide and imploring. They didn’t look at him, but at the fries.  
  
“Can I have some?” the kid asked.  
  
Leorio paused. He had run nonstop for two hours the day before, and the day before that and the day before that and he needed not to be _weak_. There were probably ten fries left. How many calories was that? The total cost was 500 jenny. How much did he still have to save per day if he wanted to -  
  
“Can I please have some, mister?”  
  
“No,” Leorio snapped. “But, uh, if I ever make it back here, I’ll buy you a Horazio burger.”  
  
He walked away quickly. The kid threw a broken piece of brick at him, bruising his shoulder, and Leorio turned and yelled and threw a rock at the kid’s receding feet.  
  
Cursing under his breath, he rubbed his shoulder and finished the fries quickly. They didn’t taste as good as before.

He passed a group of men with shining red and brown necks and bulging muscles smoking and complaining that the public shower was turned off again. They lifted their clay-crusted arms to compare the smell of their armpits. Leorio made a mental note not to bother with the public shower until he heard better rumors.  
  
Time crept on. Closer.  
  
One day Leorio went to the upper city and found a haberdashery/boutique. The bell on the door dinged as he entered. It was pleasantly cool inside. The wood floors creaked a little, but they were polished very smooth and shiny. He had walked here slowly so as not to become too sweaty or disheveled. He still tracked a bit of dust into the shop. He had money in his shoe.  
  
“Hello, sir,” the worker there said, aloof. “I presume you are-” -his gaze swept down over Leorio’s body and back up to his face- “Here to purchase a new suit?”  
  
“Yep,” Leorio said, keeping his voice cheerful. “I’d like something in dark grey, if possible.”  
  
“Ah,” the man said condescendingly. “Well, we’ve recently had some beautiful charcoal sets come in from-”  
  
“I’m on a budget, actually,” Leorio said with an apologetic smile. Confirming the man’s suspicions. Then to undercut them again: “I really overspent my allowance last term and my parents cut me off. They said they won’t even let me go yachting this summer if I don’t become more responsible.” He rolled his eyes, and saw the worker’s face tense imperceptibly with thought, with possibility.  
  
“How unfair,” the worker said sympathetically. “Surely one’s parents must understand the importance of dressing well, for a student at a prestigious school.”  
  
“That’s what I told them, but-” Leorio cut himself off, touching the sleeve of a very expensive-looking overcoat. “Ah, this is stunning.”  
  
“Yes!” The worker rushed over to pull it off the rack. “The material is hand-pulled in Padokea, so it is very light. Good for all seasons. It is your color, sir.”  
  
“You think so?” Leorio admired how his hand looked against the fabric. “Maybe I’ll - no, wait.” He grimaced. “Budget.”  
  
“Ah, of course.” The worker’s disappointment was palpable. “Perhaps later, sir.”  
  
“If it isn’t out of fashion by then.”  
  
“Oh, a coat like this, sir-”  
  
“I know, I know,” Leorio said with a broad grin. “Don’t worry, I was joking. I know timeless style when I see it.”  
  
“You have very good taste, sir.”  
  
Leorio spent half an hour trying on suits whose prices were quadruple the amount of cash he had tucked in his shoe. Finally he sighed, looking longingly at his favorite. “I adore this one, Stefan, but my parents will kill me if they see I spent this much on a suit. What can I do?”  
  
As Stefan opened his mouth to give reasons why Leorio ought to buy it anyway, Leorio held up a hand with finality. “There’s nothing for it,” he said. “I simply can’t buy this right now. Do you have anything that’s very similar at a lower cost?”  
  
“Well, with a reduced price comes reduced quality, sir,” Stefan said mournfully.  
  
Leorio let out a light laugh, the laugh of the rich. “It’s only one semester, Stefan. I’ll just wear my nicer watch to compensate. Surely your shop wouldn’t sell suits that are subpar?”  
  
“Certainly not,” Stefan bristled. “Fine, let me see... we have some from last season. But not dark grey, no...”  
  
Leorio crossed his fingers. “What about blue?”  
  
Stefan’s eyebrows raised. “Why - yes, Perhaps. Give me a moment.” He re-emerged with a blue suit on a hanger. “These trousers and jacket are from last season, but the material is good and it is just your size.”  
  
It was perfect. “Hmm,” Leorio considered it with his most critical gaze. “It doesn’t look as good as the other one.”  
  
“Quite, sir. It is one level below. And last season. Perhaps your parents would-”  
  
“I’ll try it on, I guess,” he sighed. “I suppose it would be better than nothing.”  
  
He put it on and came back out. He looked fucking amazing. “I don’t like how it sits in the shoulders,” he said, tugging at the fabric. “Something about-”  
  
“No, no, sir! It looks exquisite. The fit is really amazingly good. It almost looks tailored.”  
  
“Really?” Leorio asked skeptically. “How much are you asking?”  
  
“Two hundred thousand jenny, for you, sir.”  
  
“For _this_?”  
  
“Yes,” Stefan said defensively. “Half a year ago it would have cost twice that.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Leorio said, pulling at the sleeves and twisting around to see his back in the mirror. “It’s not what I hoped for...”  
  
“I can keep looking-”  
  
“The blue is just so flashy. I couldn’t wear this every day. I would need two suits if I got this one.”  
  
Lust flashed in Stefan’s eyes. “A wise remark, sir!”  
  
“I can’t get two suits right now with the money I have, though...”  
  
“Well, ah, if you were considering buying two, perhaps I could give you this set for one hundred fifty thousand jenny. To a good customer.”  
  
“One fifty times two... that’s...” Leorio twisted his mouth. “No. My parents would kill me. Could you do one hundred?”  
  
“For a suit like this, sir? One hundred would be theft. Theft!”  
  
“It’s out of date,” Leorio complained. “And it stands out.”  
  
“A man like you, sir, could wear a suit with zebra stripes and still impress.”  
  
“Are you calling me flashy?” Leorio asked, inflecting his voice with that little dangerous indignation.  
  
“No, no no no, not at all! That wasn’t what I meant-”  
  
“Zebra stripes...” Leorio mulled it over. “You can’t do less for this one?” he indicated the blue again.  
  
“Ah, one hundred for you, sir, and I will tailor it for you right here.”  
  
“What say eighty, and skip the tailoring?”  
  
Stefan’s eyes widened with shock. “Eighty?” he said. “Insanity! This is not a top rack suit, but it still adheres to all the high standards of my shop. You ask me to deduct 20 000 jenny from the price, based on mere tailoring?”  
  
Leorio pointed to the sign on the wall: _Alterations, 20 000 J._ _  
_  
“That is for suits not purchased here, sir,” Stefan said smoothly. “For garments purchased in the shop, tailoring is usually complementary.”  
  
“So I should save even more money if I skip it,” Leorio pointed out. “Think of the time you’ll save. Can you do seventy thousand?”  
  
Stefan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Are you really-”  
  
The moment of truth. “Ah, excuse me, Stefan,” Leorio said apologetically, reaching quickly into his pocket. “My phone-” He whipped it out and brought it to his ear. “Hello?” he said. “Ah, yes, I was hoping to hear from you. Are the preparations-? Oh, good, good. Yes, lobster, good. But be sure - ah, no. Thank you, you’re a gem. By the way, did the band - oh, good. Wonderful. I’ll see you tonight, then, and we can go over it. Tell mommy hi. Yes. No, I’m shopping right now. Pretty good, I think. I might recommend that Gabrielle - no, of course. Take care.” He hastily closed the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Sorry,” he said apologetically. “Just dealing with some plans for later this week. You do women’s clothes here, too, right?” he asked, looking around.  
  
“Why, yes, sir,” Stefan said with ravenous enthusiasm.  
  
“Good,” Leorio said vaguely. Then he let focus snap back into his eyes. “Now, ah, where were we? Sixty?”  
  
“Sir! The lowest I can possibly go is seventy thousand jenny.”  
  
“Sixty five,” Leorio proposed, “And I bring my lady here on a shopping spree once my trials are over?”  
  
Triumph shone in Stefan’s eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, sir. It is a deal. I will expect you back.”  
  
With a wave Leorio left in the new suit, his old attire folded up in a white paper shopping bag. His shoe was completely devoid of money.  
  
Smilingly grimly, he tossed the phone in his hand as he walked. It turned and its cracked, empty screen flashed in the sunlight. They would have paid enough for a sandwich, probably, at the recycling center, but Leorio was glad he had held on to the thing. It came in handy once in awhile.  
  
At his apartment he took off the suit again and carefully folded it and wrapped it in plastic so that not much dust could get on it, and stowed it deep in the closet, beside the stupid box of junk the previous tenant had left.  
  
Another day after delivering the newspapers and sneaking into the student athletic center to shower, he returned to the lower city and stopped by to visit Mrs. Jazeps. Her apartment was tiny even by local standards, and the floral chair cushions were coated with grime. The whole place smelled slightly like shit. Despite the heat of the day the little window wasn’t even open, like the temperature didn’t bother her. She didn’t sweat. Leorio did. She gave him a whiskey sour with ice cubes in it. It was mostly whiskey, barely any soda. He never accepted nonalcoholic drinks from her; she used to give him really nice homemade lemonade, but it made him very sick one time and after that he wouldn’t drink anything that didn’t have alcohol in it to sterilize the glass. Old people just didn’t know how to wash dishes properly.  
  
Leorio straightened up after checking her over and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He didn’t know why he had bothered going to the trouble of showering.  
  
“I don’t know what to say,” he said. “You should stop drinking so much.”  
  
“Oh,” she said forlornly. “Yes, I guess you’re right. I’ll have to do that. It’ll get better if I do that?”  
  
“I mean, you’re not going to heal, but the symptoms will definitely improve.”  
  
“Okay,” she said. “I think I’ll stop drinking so much.”  
  
“Great,” Leorio said. “Same time next week, then? And we can repeat this conversation for what, the fortieth time?”  
  
“You can come by any time, dear,” she said sadly. “It’s kind of you to help out an old woman.”  
  
He finished his drink in one gulp - the ice cubes were already melted - and put it back on the table amidst the piles of paper and random stuff, beside last week’s glass. The drops of perspiration lingering on the outside of the chilled glass concealed any smears and imperfections. It might have been clean.   
  
“Do you want to see a photo of my grandson?” Mrs. Jazeps asked.  
  
“Sure,” Leorio said.  
  
“Let me just think - where could it-?”  
  
“I’ll get it,” Leorio said dully, standing up. “You put it in the kitchen drawer.” Without tripping on the edge of the missing linoleum tile, he crossed the miniscule kitchen in two steps and opened the drawer. On top of the cooking utensils sat a faded photograph.  
  
Leorio picked it up and gave it to her. She looked at it for a minute and then showed it to him. “This is my grandson, Pietro,” she said.  
  
“Nice,” Leorio said. “Thanks for showing me.”  
  
“How’s medical school going, by the way, dear?”  
  
“Um. Fantastic.”  
  
“That’s wonderful. Pietro wants to be a pilot when he grows up.”  
  
“Wow,” Leorio said. “That’s, uh, that’s great. I’ll see you next week, Mrs. J, okay?”  
  
He left.  
  
It was evening and the sun went down. After waiting out the end-of-workday rush on the roof of an abandoned building where the dust couldn’t reach, in the shade of a defunct industrial A/C unit, Leorio stayed outside as darkness descended over the streets. Finally, very late, he headed back to his apartment, walking slowly. But when he arrived within view, he stopped dead.  
  
The doorway was staked out.  
  
Butterfly waited there, leaning against the wall and flipping his balisong in lazy curves around his fingers, the blade clipping and slicing the shadow when it caught the light emanating from the apartment across the street.  
  
Leorio’s surprise made him take a moment too long to retreat back into the darkness. Butterfly spotted him and beckoned with a finger.  
  
Haltingly Leorio approached, keeping his eyes on Butterfly’s knife. Not running away now could mean death. But his money, his briefcase, his suit, were all in his apartment. And where would he go without those? Running away would mean the _end_.  
  
“Hi, Butterfly,” Leorio said. His voice came out loud and confident. “What brings-”  
  
Unexpectedly Butterfly pressed a finger to his lips. He beckoned again.  
  
Leorio walked closer, finally stopping just out of reach of the range of a serious lunge. In his pocket his fingers found the worn grain of the handle of his switchblade. “Hi,” he said again. If something happened, no one would help. He affected a casual demeanor, but shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, every muscle singing with tension.  
  
“Cute,” Butterfly said. “You don’t have to be scared. You aren’t in trouble or anything like that.”  
  
Leorio hummed noncommittally.  
  
Butterfly closed his knife and stowed it in the waistband of his pants and held out his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “Ben is out of town,” he said, voice low. “Negotiating with those shits in the inland suburbs.”  
  
“Cool.”  
  
Butterfly made to move forward and Leorio flinched back. Butterfly stopped.  
  
“Relax, Switch,” he said, very soft. “Here.” Deliberately he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Equally deliberately he tossed it to Leorio, a careful underhand throw.  
  
Leorio caught it one-handed, unwilling to let his right hand leave the hidden handle of his knife. He looked down into his left palm. A roll of bills. At least ten thousand jenny. “What’s this for?”  
  
“Just hear me out,” Butterfly said. “I’m not here to fuck you up. Just hear me out. And be sworn to secrecy.”  
  
“Fine,” Leorio said, pocketing the money. “What is it?”  
  
“Ben is out of town,” Butterfly said quickly, “And me and Santoku want to take the opportunity to get rid of Bowie. He’s-” Butterfly cut off, wincing with distaste. “We _don’t like him_ and he’s too high in Machete’s favor. We think Santoku is better for that spot.” He paused, as though to see Leorio’s reaction. Leorio gave none.  
  
“So,” Butterfly continued, “We want to ambush Bowie and take him out. This week. Tomorrow. While Ben is gone.”  
  
“What the hell does this have to do with me?” Leorio asked expressionlessly.  
  
Butterfly came a little closer and Leorio let him. “Well,” Butterfly said, “Nothing, really. But it could have a lot to do with you. There’s a place for you in our plan for getting rid of the monster, if you want in. We could use your help.”  
  
“Uh...” Leorio swallowed. He thought about the money. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Simple,” Butterfly said. Excitement was audible in his voice now. “Come with us to see Machete tomorrow, and join up. Then me and Santoku will have enough firepower to get rid of Bowie without involving external actors. It’s against the charter, see? But if you’re initiated...” His voice petered out, soft with promise. He pulled out his knife and flipped it a few times, but the action wasn’t really threatening - it seemed more automatic, like how other people tapped their feet or twirled their hair.  
  
“I see,” Leorio said politely. “And, ah, the rumors that he can burn people just by touching them-”  
  
Butterfly grinned, slow and careful. He put an arm around Leorio’s shoulders, the balisong dangling bright from his fingers. “We know you can hold your own in a fight, Switch. And anything is possible with the right team. We have methods, too. Lots we could teach you. Me and Santoku have liked you for awhile, and with Bowie out of the way... who’s to say what could happen next? Ben is getting on in years. Now that I mention, so is Machete. For someone who joins up now, who knows how he could rocket up through the ranks?”  
  
Leorio swallowed. He said nothing.  
  
“So what do you say, Switch? Let me take you under my wing?” He flipped the balisong around his fingers again, and then gripped it, still.  
  
Leorio was silent for a moment. “No one respects me,” he said. “I’m sick of it.”  
  
“So was I,” Butterfly said solemnly. “You have no idea how good it feels, to have people scared of you.” Gently he poked Leorio’s neck. Leorio flinched. Butterfly laughed and looked at his finger. “You’re sweating. You’re so scared. It feels fucking amazing. Don’t you want this, Switch? You’re never gonna be a doctor. They don’t let trash like us into their world, at least not for long. They might get a kick out of treating you like a charity case for awhile, but that gets boring and they can toss you aside any time they like.” His voice darkened. “If you want shit from them, you have to have the force to _take_ it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Leorio said at last. “Yeah.” His voice trembled a little. “I’ll join. I’ll join.”  
  
Butterfly made a slow sound of ecstasy. “Hell yeah,” he said, softly but with feeling. “Meet me tomorrow at noon at the building with the green tiles, two streets west of the Warehouse. I’ll get you set up with the plan. Then we’ll have you initiated. Then we’ll _dance_.”  
  
“Okay,” Leorio said. “Okay.”  
  
Butterfly clapped him on the shoulder, hard. “You’re making the right choice, Switch. Better to be feared than loved! We’ll bring them to their knees.” He blew a kiss, and melted back into the shadows like he had never been.  
  
Leorio willed his heart to stop racing.  
  
He walked slowly into to his apartment, went up the stairs, unlocked the door, unjammed the door, entered. He threw a few things into his briefcase and changed into his new suit and left, shoving the door shut and locking it securely behind him.  
  
The streets were dark but Leorio could see his way clearly enough by the moonlight and it only took him a little while to arrive at the familiar junction and stand on top of an empty crate to tap at the window there. His touches left streaks in the coating of fine dust.  
  
“Come on,” he said under his breath as he tapped, trying to achieve the right volume balance between communication and safety. Losing patience, he tried to get his fingers under the window to lift it.  
  
After a minute there was an accompanying scratching at the latch inside, and the window, protesting all the way, creaked open at last.  
  
“Leorio?” Kiddo said. “What the hell do you want?”  
  
“Let me in for a minute.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just let me in.”  
  
Kiddo stood aside and propped the window open while Leorio got all his limbs through the narrow space, careful not to let his new suit catch on any stray hook or splinter. It was dark inside Kiddo’s room, and Leorio could barely see the outline of his little head.   
  
“Hey, Kiddo?”  
  
“What,” Kiddo whispered.  
  
“I’m leaving town, and I probably won’t be back for a long time. Here.” He flapped his hand out where he thought Kiddo’s hand might be and stuck his apartment key in the grubby little palm. “Go over to my place first thing tomorrow and take anything you want.”  
  
“Do I have to give it back if you come back?” Kiddo asked.  
  
“No, that’s okay. You can keep whatever you like. Sell what you don’t.” If Leorio ever came back here, he wouldn’t have to worry about being frugal anymore.  
  
“Sick,” Kiddo said. Then, urgently, “Are you brining your comic books with you?”  
  
“Nope. You can have ‘em.”  
  
Kiddo let out a suppressed cheer.  
  
“There’s one condition, though.”  
  
“Hell,” Kiddo said. “There always is.”  
  
“Just don’t tell any of Machete’s guys that I was here tonight, okay? In fact, don’t tell anybody. Even if they offer you a reward. I promise you it’s in your best interests not to say you knew I was skipping town.”  
  
A beat of silence. “Oh. Are you betraying them or something?”  
  
“Just pretend you never saw me, Kiddo,” Leorio said breezily. “You should get rid of the apartment key as soon as possible, too.”  
  
“Yeah, sure.”  
  
More silence.  
  
“Leorio?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Who’s gonna take care of my mom if she gets real sick again?”  
  
“Um. Nobody, probably.”  
  
“Fuck,” Kiddo said. “Some people have people looking out for them. Why is it always _nobody_ looking out for _us_?”  
  
“Who knows,” Leorio said, and his jaw felt very tight around the words. “Who knows.”  
  
He said goodbye to Kiddo and climbed awkwardly back out the window and made his way carefully through the dark, dark streets and downhill at an oblique angle. He passed a few hunched, bleary figures headed in the opposite direction, going to the brickworks for opening shifts or to do security for the construction camp.  
  
The croak and drone of the cicadas gradually petered out as he descended towards the coast.  
  
Even though it was only the small hours of the morning, the docks were already busy with the hushed activity of men up before the sun. The water made sounds, as did the thunk of crate and jangle of chains, but aside from the few barked orders that cut the shadow, most didn’t speak.  
  
Leorio found the ship, and paid his ticket. He was glad he had memorized the schedule. He was lucky there was a boat leaving today.   
  
He took a last look over his shoulder at the rising shape of the city, the lights above and the darkness below, varied only by the glow of the already-firing kilns across the bay. Then he looked away again, out to sea where the deep blue of the sky was beginning to pale and purple, heralding the morning.  
  
He boarded.  
  
He found a spot and settled down and sat and watched as the other passengers trickled in. A mere fraction of the people he would be competing against once the Hunter Exam started for real. They were sizing him up, and each other, quite obviously. A few scoffed when they saw him. He found a big smear of red dust from Kiddo’s windowsill on his pants and furiously wiped at it until it went away.   
  
He waited.  
  
In the distance he could hear the sound of the bells drifting down to the water on the wind.  
  
As he felt the ship start to move at last, a sense of pride reared up in his chest, hot like anger. He’s through half the battle, already. There may be competitors in the exam who are smarter than he is, stronger, faster, more ruthless, better. But nobody worked as hard as he did to get here.  
  
He’s going to get his license and by the time he returns, he won’t have to worry about dust or gangsters or recycling or being _polite_ anymore.  
  
All he’ll have left to do is prep for the QEs.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm glad you read this. Thanks.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the worldbuilding?  
> Or anything else!
> 
> Thank you and take care of yourself.


End file.
